CHAPTER 3: CHAPTER 3: "SURPRISE" IN THE BRIDAL SUITE

Zion Pence stood not far away, his expression frighteningly grim.

Holly steadied herself after leaving Blake Sinclair’s arms, her head lowered as she adjusted her wedding dress, not noticing the fleeting coldness in Blake Sinclair’s eyes upon seeing Zion Pence.

Zion Pence strode forward, grabbing Holly’s wrist and pulling her behind him.

His gaze froze on Blake Sinclair, and when he spoke again, all his previous arrogance was gone: "President... President Sinclair? What are you doing here?"

Blake Sinclair nodded slightly, calmly adjusting his cufflinks, his gaze lightly sweeping over Zion Pence’s hand on Holly.

"Miss Crowe." He looked at Holly, his voice low, "If something doesn’t suit you, it’s best to replace it soon."

Holly was taken aback, following his gaze down to the extended train of her wedding dress.

This wedding dress, though beautiful, ultimately wasn’t suitable for her.

Zion Pence’s face darkened; for years, wherever he went, he had been treated with respect, and this was the first time someone had ignored his greeting.

Blake Sinclair was just flaunting his noble heritage; what was there to be so proud of?

His grip unconsciously tightened, not even caring that red marks were appearing on Holly’s wrist.

"President Sinclair, my fiancée was being inconsiderate, please don’t mind."

Only then did Blake Sinclair look at him, his tone polite yet distant: "It seems President Pence has been so busy with work that he can only let his fiancée try on wedding dresses alone."

These words made Zion Pence’s face alternate between green and white. Holly gasped in pain as she twisted her wrist to break free.

The atmosphere reached a tipping point.

"President Pence," Blake Sinclair’s voice turned cold, "it’s best to be more careful with the ones you care about."

Holly’s heart skipped a beat.

Was Blake Sinclair speaking on her behalf?

Had he not heard what the store assistant said earlier, or...

Zion Pence’s face looked even worse, but not daring to refute, he reluctantly let go.

Holly massaged her wrist, raising her eyes to meet Blake Sinclair’s, which seemed to hold an emotion she couldn’t read.

The store manager rushed over, "Mr. Sinclair, what you requested has been prepared."

She respectfully guided Blake Sinclair towards the inner room.

Blake Sinclair nodded to the two in farewell, and as he passed by, his cuff brushed lightly against Holly’s palm, vanishing in an instant.

His figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, and Zion Pence turned Holly to face him, his tone full of suspicion: "When did you get to know Blake Sinclair?"

Holly looked at the man she had loved for seven years and suddenly found him completely unfamiliar.

His tie was crooked, and his suit jacket bore faint red marks, exactly matching the color of the lipstick Mia Chapelle wore in the video.

Seemingly realizing his tone was somewhat offensive, he reached out to stroke her face, "I was just too worried about you."

Holly turned her head to avoid him, "Weren’t you busy? Why did you suddenly come?"

Zion Pence’s expression momentarily froze: "What could be more important than accompanying you to try on a wedding dress? Wasn’t I trying to surprise you?"

Watching his feigned concern, Holly felt her stomach churn with nausea.

When had he become such a habitual liar?

"Have you chosen the wedding dress yet? This one suits you very well." Zion Pence looked meaningfully at the lace waistline of Holly’s dress.

Holly closed her eyes; maybe the store lights were too bright, making her eyes sting painfully. She turned away to avoid contact with him, "I’m tired."

"Alright, I’ll take you home then."

Holly changed out of the wedding dress and headed for the door.

As she passed the mirrored corner, she saw Blake Sinclair standing by the second-floor railing, his eyes fixed intently on her. He didn’t seem surprised to be discovered, and when Holly turned back, he merely offered a faint smile.

Knowing that her desolation today had been witnessed by him, Holly forced a polite smile and quickened her pace to leave.

Outside the bridal shop, Zion Pence eagerly opened the passenger door of the Cayenne, his face gentle, "Hop in, I’ll drive you home."

Holly stood rooted in place, staring at the familiar Cayenne, the scene of him and Mia Chapelle entwined in the car from the earlier video replaying in her mind.

How dare he!

This car was already tainted, the air even carrying a nauseating lingering scent.

Watching his seemingly sincere demeanor, Holly’s hand on her purse strap tightened to a deathly white. She struggled to maintain her composure and not blow away the facade he wore on his face.

Zion Pence saw her paused in place and reached out to take her hand, "What’s wrong? Come on, get in the car."

Holly stepped back, "I’ll drive myself."

Zion Pence’s expression shifted slightly, quickly replaced with a doting smile: "Alright, see you at the marital home for dinner tonight, I have a surprise prepared for you."

"Surprise?" Holly asked.

What surprise could possibly compete with what had happened these past few days?

Watching the fake gentleness on his face, Holly felt as if her heart was being painfully cut apart bit by bit with a knife.

Seven years, and only today did she realize just how hypocritical his affection was! So cheap!

They returned to the Silvan Peninsula one after the other.

Her and Zion Pence’s marital home was bought here.

As soon as she entered, Holly Crowe smelled a faint scent of roses.

The next second, Zion Pence walked up to her with a bouquet of Cappuccino roses, his face full of emotion: "Holly, are you happy?"

Holly Crowe’s fingers dug hard into her palm, her nails almost piercing the flesh.

Cappuccino roses.

Seven years ago, the first flowers Zion Pence gave her were these.

At the time, her feelings for Zion Pence were only fleeting.

Then, he held the flowers, and his eyes were all about her: "Holly, you are the one and only rose in my world."

But now, this bouquet felt like a slap, hitting her hard in the face.

One and only?

Then what was Mia Chapelle?

What were the gasping moans in the video?

And what about the pitying whispers of the bridal shop attendants?

Zion Pence: "I know these are your favorite flowers. I made a special trip to the florist today to buy them."

Holly stared at the flowers before her, her throat tight, her eyes sore and swollen, yet she forced herself to hold back her tears.

The flowers were beautiful, but not the ones she liked.

From the first month they started dating, Holly had told Zion Pence her favorite flowers were Pink Lychee.

But every holiday since, Zion Pence always brought Cappuccino roses.

The first time she received them, Holly laughed and said to him, "You got it wrong, I like Pink Lychee."

Then Zion Pence explained, "I’m sorry, the two flowers look too similar. I won’t make the same mistake next time."

But the second time, the same thing happened again.

Back then, Holly even made excuses for him in her heart, thinking it was understandable for a guy not to know the difference between flowers, and she even took him to a florist to distinguish the two.

The third time, when that bouquet reappeared, Holly merely accepted it in silence.

Fourth time, fifth, sixth...

She could no longer find any reason, nor did she want to.

It all didn’t matter anymore; after all, she wasn’t dependent on anyone.

Holly took a deep breath, "Is this what you call a surprise?"

Zion Pence: "Do you like it, babe? You’ve been working hard with all the company stuff lately."

Holly was infuriated to the point of laughter.

How had she never realized before how shameless Zion Pence was?

Now that she thought about it, every time he gave her roses and sweet talk, it was after she’d finished a company project. What was that?

Was it a slap followed by a sweet date?

Using cheap and fake affection with a bouquet of roses she didn’t like, just to make her work harder for the company?

Zion Pence saw her lack of reaction and thought she was moved, smiling as he shoved the flowers into her arms, his arm sliding around her waist.

His gaze roamed uncontrollably over Holly.

Just now, the waistline from the bridal shop seemed to still be swaying before his eyes.

Zion Pence’s Adam’s apple bobbed, a hot flush rising.

Every day, Holly wrapped herself in the stiff black business suit, and he’d almost forgotten how beautiful she really was.

Unlike Mia Chapelle’s blatant, flashy beauty, hers was a beauty that needed to be discovered with heart—calm yet resilient.

It’s just that the old-fashioned clothes sealed away her original grace and brilliance.

Seven years ago, it was her in that dress that attracted him, what a pity...

A surge of impulse mixed with possessiveness and freshness rose, Zion Pence’s hand affectionately held Holly’s slightly stiff shoulder, his fingertips ambiguously stroked near her ear twice.

He bent down to her ear, his voice thick with desire: "Holly, you looked... beautiful in that wedding dress."

After he spoke, he paused, completely unaware of the tension in the person in his arms, "Don’t wear that old-fashioned business suit anymore. I prefer you in dresses."

His tone was light and even carried a hint of generous concession, "Dress up beautifully, and it makes me feel at ease when I look at you, right."

Holly: "...."